An Unofficial 5th Era Story
by IAmMac
Summary: The 5th Era is well underway in Tamriel and a new adventure begins.
1. Prelude

The 5th Era in Tamriel has been no less tumultuous than its preceding eras. Skyrim has won its freedom from the Empire, which is now ruled by the Thalmor under the Third Aldmeri Dominion and their Imperial allies. High Rock, The Summerset Isles, Valenwood and Elsweyr are all that remain loyal to the Empire. Hammerfell and Skyrim have declared their independence. Blackmarsh has remained impenetrable due to its harsh terrain thus allowing the Argonians to remain independent. As for Morrowind, they remain loyal to the Empire but are largely self-governed.

Cyrodiil has become a technological powerhouse within the Empire, manufacturing magi-tech weapons in factories that have been built in what was once the Imperial City Market District. These new weapons, which include firearms, will inevitably give an edge to the Empire in any conflicts to come. The Imperial Legions have slowly made the switch from traditional combat training to the new magi-tech firearms. Despite the Empire's best efforts to keep this new technology to itself some of these have fallen into the hands of pirates, and most regrettably, the Reachmen, who have themselves taken to fighting all who would oppose them in their bid to take back the reach.

Our story however begins in Skyrim. A young Nordic warrior named Andahl. Only 27 himself, the grizzled Nord has seen plenty of combat as he once served with The Companions. His story has barely begun, for little does he know he is about to start down a path he never expected to be on. His path is destined cross with that of a young man fleeing the Imperial forces of the Thalmor as they attempt to maintain their grip on the Ruby Throne. The Moth Priests have delivered an ominous vision from an Elder Scroll, one that foretells the return of a Dragonborn emperor, a return that would mean the end of the Dominion's rule.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Jokai, a young Breton clad in silver trimmed steel armor ran through the woods southern Skyrim. The trees a blur as the soldiers clad in black, riding horseback drew closer. Knowing he would soon be surrounded Jokai gripped the hilt of the longsword loosely mounted at his hip and ducked behind a tree. He stood there, breathing heavily, thinking back to earlier that day.

Earlier that day:

Jokai was only eighteen when the soldiers came to the small mountain village of Helgen where he lived, looking for the new dragonborn. There were mostly Nords in his village, but he watched from his window as the Imperial and Thalmor soldiers dragged whole families from their homes and loaded them into covered wagons. The soldiers went from house to house growing ever closer in their search. They were only a few houses away when Jokai's father burst into his room. Jokai jumped, startled, and quickly turned to face his father.

"Father, I thought you might be one of them." Jokai stuttered, his long silver hair falling in his face.

"Sorry." Jokai's father spoke as he dropped a heavy sack on the floor. "Get away from that window boy."

"But Father I was only watching."

His Father ignored him and spoke hastily, " Quick, put these on and run!" Jokai could see his father was quite upset.

"Father, what's the matter?" Jokai walked over and knelt beside the sack where he found the armor. "Is this mine?" He asked.

"Yes, it is. Now please hurry!" His father grew more and more frantic as they heard the soldiers taking the house next to their's.

Jokai began putting the armor on, "Father, what's going on?"

"Jokai, I hoped we would never have to have this conversation..."

"What conversation father?"

"You were not born to this family, Jokai." His father spoke swiftly as he helped him put the armor on. "You son, are dragonborn."

"But father, I feel just as human as you and mother."

"That's because you've yet to be trained." His father buckles the armor into place and reaches for the sword in the corner of Jokai's room.

"Yet to be trained?" Jokai asked, confused.

"Silence Jokai!" The soldiers were at their door. His mother was stalling them as Jokai's father quickly fastened the sword to Jokai's belt. "Listen to me Jokai, your mother and I will be imprisoned for harboring you. You must flee north, to the Lycan Wood, to the rebel's camp."

"But Father..."

"Go Jokai! Run!" His father pushed him out of the room, down the hall and out the back door. "Go!" The soldiers force their way into the home, dragging his mother behind them. "Mother!" Jokai yells drawing the attention of the soldiers, one of them yells, "There he is! Get 'em!" Jokai's father slams the door in front of Jokai and bars it shut. Jokai pounds on the door yelling for his parents hearing the noise of the struggle within. As the noise subsides Jokai, with tears in his eyes reluctantly turns to run for the forest. The last thing he heard was a soldier give the order to give chase.

Jokai snapped out of the memory, cursing himself for not doing more to protect his family. He could hear the soldiers' horses drawing closer before coming to a halt in a small clearing near the tree he had chosen for cover. One soldier however continued to charge. Jokai drew his sword, took a few deep breaths, and turned from behind the tree screaming, but the soldier, who was wielding a lance had struck a glancing blow on his shoulder plate. Jokai's sword went flying and he fell hard to the ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He laid there, on the ground, trying to breath as the lance-man came around, bringing his white Imperial stallion to a trot. He halted his horse just above Jokai and removed his helmet, "Well, well, well. I thought you were supposed to be a mighty warrior. Trained in the way of the voice and all." The soldier and his men all laughed heartily.

The lance-man dismounted his horse and kicked Jokai in the ribs as he tried stammering to his feet. Jokai let out a grunt and a strained coughas he fell back to ground.

"Guess not." The lance-man chuckled.

"Captain, we shouldn't linger here long sir." A soldier spoke to the lance-man with concern.

"And why not?" The captain responded.

"Well, these woods sir, they're..."

"The Lycan's Wood, I know boy." The captain retorted, "Am I to be afraid of some of Hircine's dogs?"

"Well, no sir but..." Just then, a deep howl rang through the woods. The horses began to panic, the captain's horse took off running before he could grab hold of the reigns. Jokai was still laying on the ground, trying to catch his breath through his own growing state of panic. The captain was looking around as the howling stopped, and the woods went quiet again.

"See boys, just dogs, nothing..." The captain's words were cut short when a spear came flying from the shadows of the woods, piercing through his back just above back plate of his armor, coming out his sternum just beneath his breast plate and into the ground, dropping him to his knees. The other soldiers turned their horses and fled. Jokai managed to clamor back to a tree and set his back against it. He sat there staring at the captain, watching him choke up blood as he died. Jokai was still struggling to catch his breath, his vision was blurring, and all he could see was a large dark figure walking towards him. Just as the figure reached out to grab him, he blacked out.

4


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

(2 Days Later)

Jokai began to wake, his vision blurry, and head pounding he could smell the distinct scent burning wood. As his vision slowly cleared, he looked around and found himself laying on animal pelts in a strange tent. Jokai looked around the tent and saw his armor and sword neatly laid on the opposite end of the tent, next to it was a large Nordic battle-axe standing against the wall. Jokai tried to sit up, and winced in pain clutching his ribs, letting out a pain-filled growl. "Dammit!" he muttered to himself. Eventually forcing himself into an upright position Jokai took some time to get a stronger sense of his surroundings. He could hear the sounds of conversations and working outside the tent. Suddenly, the pelt that served as a door to the tent began to move, and a man walked in. The man was tall and muscular, he was wearing a full set of Nordic armor, but without the helm, which he was carrying his left hand. He was a bearded man with long hair, and many battle scars.

"You live. I was getting worried boy!" the man's voice was deep and gruff with a heavy Nordic accent.

Jokai nodded to him.

"Name's Andahl." He introduced himself.

"Jokai."

Andahl stepped towards Jokai and reached down grabbing Jokai by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet, Jokai let out a pain filled groan as his body was jerked upward.

"What the hell! You big oaf! Why would you do that?!" Jokai snarled through the pain.

"Toughen up boy. You got training to do. Get your sword, there's clean clothes in the bag there you can wear." Andahl scoffed at Jokai. "We'll make you a real warrior somehow." Andahl turns and walks out of the tent.

Jokai found the clothes and got dressed, took his sword and made his way toward the tent's exit, all the while mumbling profanities to himself. Upon exiting the tent Jokai saw he was actually in a small but bustling village of tents. Men and Mer of all creeds moved about in their tasks. Elves, stringing bows and crafting arrows. Orcs and Nords hard at work forging armor and weapons. Even some members of the races loyal to the Empire bustled about in their own work. Jokai had never seen this level of cooperation between the races, he was taken back by it all.

"Hey, boy! Get over here!" Andahl yelled from down the path. Jokai ran down to Andahl where he saw what appeared to be an abandoned farmhouse. "This is where you'll train." Andahl informed him.

"In this old shack?" Jokai scoffed too which Andahl responded with swift jab catching Jokai on the shoulder. Jokai jerked forward and grunted in pain, "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Jokai hissed.

"We work with what we have. We can't just train in the open like the so-called emperor's men do. Most of us are being hunted." Andahl retorted.

Andahl lead Jokai into the shack where he saw crude training dummies and equipment. "Now, let's begin." Andahl picks up a sword and performs a number of basic strikes on a dummy. "Your turn boy." Andahl steps aside and takes a seat on a bale of hay and Jokai begins mimicking Andahl's strikes.

"Andahl, I have questions for you." Jokai speaks as he strikes.

"Yes, I am sure you do. Focus on your target and I will explain it all." Andahl begins answering questions as Jokai rattles them off.

"What did my father mean when he said I was dragonborn?" Jokai began questioning.

"You were born, blessed by Akatosh, with the blood and soul of a dragon."

"What happened to my parents?"

"No sure. The emperor isn't what you'd call a predictable man."

"What do you mean 'not sure'?" Jokai asked, growing visibly upset.

"They were harboring you; they'd have been branded traitors."

"But why? Why does the emperor want the dragonborn so badly?"

"Being dragonborn makes you the rightful heir to the Ruby Throne. Though its less him and more the Thalmor. You see, losing their puppet on the throne would mean losing their hold on the Empire."

"How did they find me then?" Jokai's swordsmanship was sloppy at first but with each time he repeated the series of strikes.

"Likely tortured it out of the moth priests. Those filthy Thalmor have no respect for anyone but themselves."

"What will they do if the capture me?"

"Best case, force you to renounce your claim. Worst and most likely case, kill you."

"Oh..." Jokai sighed.

The training and talking continued on through the afternoon and into the evening. They repeated this pattern for the next three months stopping only to eat and sleep. Then one morning that began like any other, Jokai woke up and got dressed, when suddenly Andahl charged into the tent in full armor, and in a fury took up his battle-axe, mounted it to his back and tore back out of the tent without saying a word.

"Andahl, what's happening?" Jokai asked.

"Imperial raiding party. Steel yourself lad. Time to put your training to the test." Andahl tossed a longsword to Jokai that he mounted to his hip.

Jokai followed Anahl out of the tent where he found the camp already under assault by the raiding party. They were slaughtering villagers and burning tents at every turn. One soldier charged Andahl, who swung his battle-axe severing the soldier's sword arm at the elbow. The soldier fell to his knees screaming right before Andahl severed his head on the back swing.

Jokai had never seen Andahl in a real fight, his power was almost frightening. Andahl let loose a guttural roar and charged into the fray. Jokai followed suit, drawing his sword and running to the aid of villagers stuck in a burning tent.

The occupants cried out for help as Jokai sliced through the pelt door and began helping people out shielding them from the flames as best he could. "Go! Find safety." Jokai directed the villagers towards the woods when a soldier ran up to him, sword drawn and as Jokai prepared to face the soldier another with a heavy shield rushed his flank knocking him over. Jokai looked up at the two men that stood over him, thrusting his sword into the first one, killing him. Before he could pull his blade out however a large hammer-axe cleaved through the shield carrier, armor and all. As the soldier's body slumped onto the ground in two bloody halves Jokai saw a friend behind the corpse, it was Grauder. Grauder was a towering orc and a long time friend to Andahl. Grauder helped Jokai up and charged back to the battle, as did Jokai. After slaying a handful of soldiers Jokai heard the enemy sound their retreat and watched as they fled. Andahl followed close behind one of the raiders yelling, "Don't run boy, you'll only die tired!" he swung his axe landing it in the raiders back, and the raider fell dead. "Told you so!" Andahl mocked as he pulled his axe from the corpse.

A few hours later as the villagers counted their missing and mourned the dead. Andahl stood before the villagers, "We must pack up and move on. Their survivors will surely inform the Thalmor and their lap dog of our location and they will surely bring a full battalion to finish the job. We all have losses to mourn but please do so quickly and prepare to move out. You leave at sunrise. Grauder will lead you all to safety. I must take Jokai to the Greybeards to confirm his lineage and birthright. All other trained swords are to stay with the village to defend the caravan. I wish you all the best and trust the hands I leave you with." Andahl stepped to his tent and began packing his travel bag. Jokai did the same.

"So who are these Greybeards?" Jokai asked.

"They are an order of monks who live in High Hrothgar, near the summit of The Throat of The World." Andahl answered.

Andahl and Jokai left the tent and mounted their horses at the stables and began the long ride to High Hrothgar.


End file.
